


No More Weed For You

by Quantum_Entropy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 420, Love Confessions, M/M, Marijuana, Rimming, Weed, blowjob, cute funny and steamy, explicit content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24878818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Entropy/pseuds/Quantum_Entropy
Summary: Peter and Stiles get high together. Turns out, weed can make you horny, and dampen all of your insecurities at the same time. It's a wonderful, sexy mix. Also, sex while high is better than anything ever.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 5
Kudos: 218





	No More Weed For You

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited and written while horribly sleep-deprived. Needless to say, there may be mistakes.

A cold breeze touched his cheek. His eyes closed and he turned away from it. Slowly, groggy. The chill ran down the back of his neck, over his back and down his arms. He swayed back, floated back onto the pillows. He parted his dry lips, hardly felt his breath pass them. And he grinned, feeling giggles trying to seize his lungs with their joyous tune.

"Good, huh?" Peter asked beside him. Stiles opened his eyes wide and breathed in deep, his grin widening. He arched his neck and looked over at Peter, sitting beside him on the bed. Peter was staring down at him softly. Amusement blanketed his expression.

"It's goooood," Stiles drawled with too much inflection. He watched Peter chuckle before bringing the dark-azure and black-colored bowl to his lips and lighting it, inhaling deep. Stiles watched the red embers spark and flare before falling flat once again. Watched the smoke exit Peter's lips to form wispy shapes and rings in the air.

"How'd you do _that?_ " Stiles asked, his voice getting away from him.

"Hmm?"

"The..." His hands did something complicated in the air above him. He didn't necessarily tell them to do so. "The circles."

Peter chuckled again. "I'll have to show you some other time with something that won't render you useless afterwards."

"Hey... I'm not _useless_ ," Stiles insisted. He turned on his side, heedless of how he threw his leg over Peter's, and pointed at the older man before his hand flopped against Peter's muscly shoulder. "I'm laying here... being... useful."

Peter hummed, cocking his head and pondering this. Stiles watched his blue eyes roam over his entire body. His eyes were like... like an ice-cave. Blue and inviting on the outside, but the deeper it goes, the darker and more dangerous it gets. _God_ , they were beautiful. Like art. Like complicated, amazing art.

He's so stoned.

"Yes," Peter finally said, "I suppose the amusement I leech from your antics does prove useful to my sanity on occasion."

"See! I keep you sane. Totally not useless." He laughed hard for a second. "I could be the reason you haven't killed us all if I keep you sane! How weird is that?!"

Peter took another hit of the bowl and then leaned over Stiles, bracing a hand next to his side and looming over him, only inches apart. Stiles closed his eyes and leaned up into it; couldn't help how his hand touched Peter's side. With lips inches apart, they traded the smoke that lingered in Peter's lungs. Stiles could taste it in his mouth, and he wondered what it would be like to taste Peter instead.

Stiles flopped back down on the bed once Peter leaned away and breathed out. "Whoa," he laughed, closing his eyes and finding his hand somehow over his face. "I felt that one."

"Darling, you 'felt that one' the last three times."

"Ssshhhhhhhhhh."

Stiles rode on the high, feeling more and more amazing as time went on. Peter sat silent beside him, head tilted towards Stiles. He wondered if Peter was looking at him, and turned his head to find out. He was right. Those eyes were piercing, and wandering along his body.

"What?" Stiles asked, giggling at the idea that Peter was thinking of making him into a casserole or something that werewolves eat.

Peter didn't answer. Just met Stiles' eyes and he had the softest look on his face. Soft, like kitten fur. So petable. So smooth. So pretty.

Stiles didn't really realize he'd turned towards Peter again and reached up to stroke his fingers over Peter's cheek. But even once he realized it, he was so high he didn't seem to care. He was just awed by how soft Peter's skin was. He'd never actually touched Peter's skin before. He's only ever grabbed his shoulder a few times, clung onto his shirt once or twice, and only in the heat of a battle. They'd never touched hands, never touched like this. It was so intimate.

"Stiles," Peter said softly, and Stiles' eyes watched Peter's lips move.

"It's so _soofft_ ," Stiles exaggerated, and Peter ducked his head, gently wrapped his fingers around Stiles' wrist and moved his hand away. Stiles pouted, but when Peter let go of his hand, he set it on Peter's stomach instead. He wore such a soft v-neck. Why is everything about Peter so soft when inside he's rough, like barbed wire or steel wool. Harsh, dangerous. Painful.

But outside... He's so...

So...

Stiles leaned his face on Peter's chest and stared at where his hand moved over the fabric of the v-neck. He could feel the hard outline of Peter's ribs where they met his hard abs. Peter may be soft, but he's also hard...

Ha. Hard.

Stiles began giggling at his own joke, and didn't stop. His inappropriate mind got away from him and he wondered if he could ever get Peter hard.

_Ooh, no, no no- bad idea, bad Stiles. Bad Stiles. Hehehe- no! No, that wouldn't... Well...? No. No, bad idea. Bad bad bad bad_

Stiles then began to _really_ imagine Peter naked and hard right here next to him, and then found out how quickly arousal can take over when high.

He also found it really hard to feel embarrassed.

He watched Peter take another hit.

His lips parted against the fabric of Peter's shirt and his eyes were then stuck on Peter's crotch, imagining bare thighs, a hard cock arching into the air. A cock he could touch, lick, grind on. A cock that could fuck him hard, bent over and restrained-

"Fuck," Stiles said out loud, and he felt Peter's quiet chuckle through his chest. He tilted his head back and looked up at his face, saw the grin he was trying to bite down. Stiles' skin felt flushed and warm to the touch, even while that strange cold breeze still swept over him. The skin around his groin was especially hot. Burning, practically.

He felt Peter's chuckles through his entire body. That's when he realized he was completely pressed against him. Resting his head on the crook of where his shoulder meets his chest. And Peter's arm curled around him reluctantly.

"No more weed for you," Peter said with amusement in his voice.

"Nooo, come on!" Stiles pushed himself up and looked into Peter's pretty eyes again. His hand found its way onto his chest, fingertips bushing against the soft skin of his clavicle. "I like this. I like-" _you_... "Um..." _I like this intimacy so so much you have no idea I never knew how much I craved this all this time I only thought it was attraction because you're pretty but god I wanted this so bad_

Peter stared at him for a long moment (or maybe it was only a second) before saying, "I understand, Stiles. I really do." _Fuck, I said all of that out loud!_ "But... weed makes people... emotional, and-"

"It's not-..." Stiles bit his lip, and his body heated when he saw Peter's eyes fall to where his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. "I don't know," a grin took over, "I just feel so good." He forgot all about the embarrassment he should feel and began giggling again. He felt tingling all across his body and it felt good. It did. "Sooo good." He sighed and dropped his head back down on Peter's shoulder, wrapping his arm around the man beside him and hiking his leg up over again. His half-hard cock was caught snugly between them and it was really nice.

"I know," Peter said quietly. The arm wrapped around Stiles' back slowly moved. Stiles felt Peter's fingers drag lightly, slowly, up his back until his hand rested on his side. The slight tickle of Peter's fingers sent entirely new sparks through his body and straight to his groin. For a moment, arousal soared, but it was quickly dampened when he got distracted by a piece of fuzz on Peter's shirt.

Stiles scoffed at the piece of grey fuzz and flung it somewhere off to the side.

He could hear Peter's heart beating from under his ear.

"I've wanted this too," Peter said after a while. "Pack - they scent each other. With touch, sharing clothes... I don't get that. I don't smell like pack because I don't get scented like pack..."

"I know," Stiles replied. Because, he did. He figured it out _eons ago_. Okay, maybe not eons but definitely at least a year ago. No one ever touched Peter. Maybe Derek every once in a while when he's in a mood, but everyone else was put off by Peter. They had bad memories and, to be honest, Peter doesn't help his case.

Stiles always saw through that. He saw a hurt man who just wanted home and safety but didn't know how to show it without feeling vulnerable. But, what was he going to do? It's not like they had a 'friendship' where Stiles could just go up and rub his scent all over him.

"You smell like me. Now, I mean." Stiles buried his nose in Peter's chest and inhaled. He smelled... "You smell musty, like a night forest, and also..." He inhaled again. His mouth opened to form the word, but he refused to say it.

 _Ash_.

Peter smelled like ash. Always has. Even after showering - even after all these years away from any kind of fire, he still smells like that sharp scent of ash.

Stiles isn't sure how or why, but he's pretty sure it will never go away. It's a part of Peter now, just like the scars in his soul.

"You," Stiles finished. "You smell like you... But also me." He looked up into Peter's eyes. "Now, I mean. Because I'm scenting you now." Stiles looked at Peter's nose. Imagined it twitching like a dog's when he sniffs, and began giggling again. Stupid giggles.

"Now do me! What do I smell like! I keep asking Isaac and Derek and Erica but they all tell me I smell like a dork or something snippy like that."

"Like honeysuckle after a storm," Peter answered immediately, as if he needed no time to think about it. As if he'd already thought about it extensively before. "And lightning in winter." Peter looked deeply into Stiles' eyes. Is that possible? Can he see deep into his eyes?

Stiles then didn't give a shit about eyes, because Peter's other hand then slid onto Stiles' thigh, where it rested atop his waist. Stiles looked down and watched Peter's hand slide further up, and lightly squeeze. It sent sensations everywhere, but mostly his groin. And it felt better than he's ever felt before down there. It felt like there were a billion tiny nerve endings that cause pleasure suddenly sparking to life all at once. Oh god, it was sex heaven!

Stiles felt his face go hot, and didn't realize his fingers had clenched in Peter's shirt.

"Weed can enhance the perception of pleasure," Peter said informatively, sounding amused again, before his hand then slid back down to the back of his knee. Stiles was disappointed, but then Peter pulled a little - pulled Stiles' groin tight against his thigh.

Stiles' mouth dropped open, and his hips leaned forward on their own accord against the tight pressure. Oh god it felt so amazing. So good, so so so good. He looked into Peter's eyes and his soft lips and he's never looked so beautiful before.

"It can also heighten arousal," Peter continued, sounding ever so slightly out of breath. He slid down on the bed just a little to bring them closer to the same level and turned towards Stiles just enough to slide his hand back up his thigh and to his ass. And he cupped his ass cheek. Lightly squeezed.

To put it bluntly, Stiles' cock has never been so hard in his entire life. His cock has never felt so hot. So stimulated.

"Peter," Stiles managed to force out. Damn his brain, working slightly rationally. "Is this okay?"

Peter's hand slid back down to his thigh again, and rested there innocently. Stiles still left his groin pressed against Peter. He didn't want that to stop. Peter cocked his head cutely. "Exactly what are you thinking about in that head of yours?"

"Well, first of all..." _This is so hot and I want it to keep going and going and going-_ "These are a lot of boundaries that we're, like, not breaking but kind of- no, I think it's totally just bursting past the boundaries and I just want to make sure that you're not going to regret this once you're not high."

"Darling..." Peter turned. He rolled, and Stiles moaned loudly when that movement caused a whole lot of friction to his dick, and found himself on his back with Peter looming over him. One of his hard thighs rested in between Stiles' own, and the other bracketed his right high. "I've wanted this since the day I realized I should've bitten you instead of Scott."

"Ooh, can we not talk about Scott right now?"

"Agreed."

Stiles gasped and threw his head back in ecstasy when Peter began lightly rolling his hips, thigh against groin, and his mouth quickly found Stiles' throat. T _his has to be a dream, this is so good, Peter's so good._

He reached up and buried one of his hands in Peter's hair. The other, he fearlessly grabbed Peter's ass and _pulled_. Peter let out a harsh breath and rolled his hips against Stiles' a bit harder, and that's when Stiles figured out Peter liked it rough.

Peter liked it _rough_. Of course he did. It made perfect sense...

Right?

Stiles began giggling again.

"What," Peter said, leaning back up to stare down at Stiles with blown pupils. He kind of sounded angry but Stiles knew he was just _hot_. He could feel Peter's hard cock against his pelvis.

Stiles felt so devious and fearless, it was amazing. Weed was his super power.

He fisted Peter's hair tight and pulled his head down far enough that he could whisper against his cheek, "You like it _rough_." Even if the soft grunt and hard press of his hips didn't confirm it, the lack of a rebuttal from the king of misdirection sure did. "Oh god, I think I like that you like it rough," Stiles continued, reveling in the knowledge that he was _controlling_ Peter.

Stiles released Peter's hair (at least he released the pressure - he still kept his hand there. Like all of Peter's clothes and skin, his hair was so freaking _soft_ ) and Peter looked Stiles in the eyes. And Stiles' cock leaked an obscene amount of precum, because Peter's eyes were glowing and they were _the sexiest things ever_. "How do you like it?" Peter asked in a husky voice. His hips moved slower and lighter than before, dragging and pushing at an excruciatingly constant pace.

"I don't know," Stiles admitted, meeting Peter's slow movements with his own, seeking friction and letting out little moaning pants.

Peter hummed and then leaned down and tipped Stiles' head back with his lips. He kissed Stiles' jaw, then trailed his lips down the side of his neck, licking his throat and sucking lightly on the thin skin above his collarbone. Stiles felt a moan leave his mouth without filter and didn't care.

Peter lifted a hand from the bed and trailed it down Stiles' chest, down his stomach. His fingers played at his waistband and Stiles whimpered at the sensations. "Please," he breathed. That was all Peter needed. In seconds, Stiles' pants were undone and Peter's hand was palming him through his underwear. Stiles' hips lifted off the bed and the noises leaving his mouth were nothing short of pornographic.

"Mmm, love," Peter hummed against his throat.

"I'm gonna cum," Stiles breathed.

"So soon, darling?" Peter's hand disappeared from Stiles' dick and he whimpered. But then Peter slid down the bed and Stiles threw his head back hard, hips leaving the bed, because in the space of a few seconds, his hard, aching dick was in Peter's hand, and his tongue was rubbing flat against the underside. His lips wrapped around the head and closed down tight, sucking softly. Stiles' moans were loud and obscene and pitiful. But they must be sexy because Peter began moaning back. He took Stiles' cock down deep, sucking hard, rubbing his tongue on him, and just when Stiles was about to cum, he pulled off and only licked him softly.

Stiles regained control of his body and looked down, and the sight alone got him close. He was right on the edge. Peter's glowing eyes, now only a thin ring of blue around wide black pupils, met his own and he felt as if he was melting.

His body was numb. It felt as if all of his feeling was focused on his genitals, and it was heaven.

"Wait," Stiles blurted when Peter's mouth returned tight around him. Peter popped off his cock and looked at him curiously. "I don't wanna cum yet." He grabbed Peter's arms and tugged, and kept tugging until Peter was directly over top of him, nose to nose. "I..." Stiles stared up at him. His hands found their way up the sides of Peter's shirt, feeling his smooth, warm skin. "I want more than just that."

That soft look returned, even with the glowing eyes, and Stiles looked to Peter's lips. They pulled into a soft smile, and then Peter's hand cupped Stiles' cheek. Then, he leaned down, and Stiles tilted his head to meet him in a slow, sensual kiss.

They continued to kiss. Exploring each other's mouths. Tongues were introduced. Meanwhile, Stiles' hands roamed Peter's torso, pulling up his shirt until Peter had to sit up to pull it off. Stiles set his hands on Peter's chest and took him in. He felt Peter's pecks, his nipples, the hard lines of his stomach, and then hooked on the waistband of his jeans. He trailed the fingers of one hand over the hard, thick line that followed the crook of his thigh and hip.

After just a moment, without hesitation, he undid Peter's pants and moved Peter's cock until the tip poked out the top of his underwear.

Stiles sat up and wrapped his arms around Peter's ass, pressing kisses to his stomach. Peter's hand slid delicately into his hair, petting softly.

"Stiles," Peter said quietly. Stiles leaned back, and let Peter push him back down to the bed. "I love you." Stiles stared up at him, the sincerity in his eyes. "I've loved you for a long time. I feel towards you a way I've never felt for anyone before." Peter swallowed, and cupped Stiles' cheek again. "I need you to know that before we go any further."

Stiles was speechless. _Could this be real?_ "I... I don't know if I'm in love with you... You never really gave me a chance. But I really like you. I... I _get_ you. I see all the things you never talk about. I know how you feel even when you show something different. I... I understand how you think and how you feel things. And even the bad parts of you, I think are beautiful in their own twisted way." Peter's thumb rubbed over Stiles' lips and he looked like he was in pain. But a good kind of pain. The heart-clenching, tear-eliciting pain of love and relief.

Then there was more kissing. And after a while of kissing and palming at each other, Stiles convinced Peter to let him make him cum first, because if Stiles cums first, he's going to be out for the count. Peter had laughed.

So Stiles got in between Peter's spread (spreaded?) legs and pulled his pants down, then pulled down the underwear.

And... wow, that's a nice dick.

Stiles got him slick with spit and slid his hand over its length a few times, admiring the feel of someone else's dick. Admiring the way Peter's chest moved with pleasured sighs with each pass of his hand.

Then, Stiles found a goal to work towards. He was going to do everything he can to make Peter cum hard.

He jacked his cock and put his wet lips to the tip, letting it brush across them as his hand moved. Peter let out a hard hum. Then Stiles wrapped his lips around him with his tongue pressed tight against it. He sucked hard, hand still moving around the base. A low hum.

Stiles then realized he was so high he wasn't even shaking from nerves. He grinned to himself and wondered how his gag reflex was affected.

He moved his tongue around, creating more spit, and then moved his hand away from the base. Then he began bobbing and sucking and twisting his tongue and moving his head. From his peripheral, he saw Peter jerk his head up just as Stiles sunk down as far as he could, feeling the tip of Peter's cock push past his tongue and down his throat.

Peter groaned loud and pushed himself up onto his elbows to watch. "Oh, _god_ , Stiles!" He sounded surprised.

What? Stiles was a curious teenager. Of course he practiced on everything from 7 inch bananas to 10 inch dildos. And Stiles was nothing if not a perfectionist.

Stiles worked Peter's cock with his mouth and throat, and even curiously took some of the spit that leaked past his mouth on his fingertip and touched Peter's hole.

"Fuck," Peter grunted, abs tensing and legs spreading a little. Stiles rubbed with more pressure, and Peter moaned sweetly. "Yeah, keep doing that, baby."

 _Baby,_ that's a new one.

Stiles liked it.

Stiles took a moment to pull off Peter's cock and spit on his fingers. During that moment, he looked up at Peter and grinned wolfishly. Peter moaned at just the sight, looking _wrecked_.

Stiles did that. Stiles made Peter look like that.

Stiles went back down on him with a new fervor and rubbed his spit-slick finger against him with more intent, loving each new moan he pulled from him. Finally, he pushed his finger in and began slowly pumping in and out.

Peter's noises changed from groans and the occasional breathy moan to quick, short, grunting moans that got higher and higher in pitch as they went on. Stiles glanced up and saw him struggling to keep his head from falling back in ecstasy, wanting to watch but feeling so good.

Stiles was such a fucking badass.

"Love, Stiles, darling, I'm gonna cum," Peter panted. Stiles would've laughed at the string of names if his throat wasn't full of Peter's throbbing cock.

Stiles wasn't quite sure of swallowing cum. After all, he may have practice deep-throating but he's never actually gotten to experience someone else's cum. And, he read somewhere (or maybe Scott told him? Or Erica?) that werewolves - born wolves especially - liked the scent of their own cum on the person they fuck. It's the most intimate scent-marking option.

So maybe he should get Peter to cum on him?

Stiles withdrew and pulled off his shirt, listening to Peter pant during the break from stimulation. His cock was hard enough to stand up against the pull of gravity, arching sexily. It really was a perfect cock.

Stiles got more spit on his finger and went right back at it, quickly bringing Peter to those sexy, higher-pitched, grunting, panting, whining moans. His hips arched up minutely, his fingers found their way to Stiles' hair only to rest there.

"Fuck, baby," Peter said, staring down at him with that wrecked expression again. "Oh, fuck, sweet- I'm gonna- Stiles..." Stiles could feel it. Could feel his cock get tighter, could feel his balls drawing up and his ass clenching. Could hear it in his moans - his lungs seizing up and choking out sounds of ecstasy.

He pulled off just as he started cumming and said, "Look at me," and met those glowing eyes while he bared his neck and jerked his cock against his throat. Peter groaned lowly, like a real growl, while his cum painted his throat and slid down his chest.

Peter's orgasm lasted long. Longer than most of Stiles', and it was sexy as fuck. Stiles just couldn't believe that Stiles did that. Stiles turned Peter on that much, disheveled him so easily. He reveled in this pride for a moment, but then was interrupted.

Only a few moments after Peter had finished cumming, he pulled Stiles up and pushed him down onto the bed on his back, and practically tore off his pants. Stiles pushed himself up on his hands to watch and laughed loudly, loving his enthusiasm.

Then Stiles shouted and fell onto his back when Peter took Stiles down as far as he himself had, as if he was proving that Stiles would not beat him in anything.

Stiles jerked, legs bending at the knees and pushing at the bed, hips pushing up against Peter's mouth. Peter had to pin his hips down at one point. Loud noises punched their way from Stiles' mouth and he had no control over any of it. His cock was so hot and so stimulated he's pretty sure he was cumming... no, now he was cumming... maybe now?

His balls were drawn up, his cock felt as if he was just constantly cumming. Maybe not fully ejaculating, but holy fuck it felt so good. Weed is wonderful. Weed is fucking fantastic.

So is Peter's god damn mouth!

Peter's hand grabbed Stiles' and set it in his hair. Stiles' fingers fisted tight and Peter _growled_ around his dick. "Oh, fuck!" Stiles shouted, because that's when he came for real. His hips left the bed, his entire body seized, and his balls emptied down Peter's fucking throat. Peter kept growling, this long, drawn out thing which was sexier than Stiles ever thought possible.

Stiles went limp all at once, panting as if he had just ran a marathon. Peter sucked off his cock and left with a pop, the lingering of a growl still rattling quietly in his chest. Peter kissed Stiles' bare stomach, licking and mouthing and nipping. Stiles left his hand limp in Peter's hair and closed his eyes, feeling the sensations Peter was leaving on his skin penetrating through the numb feeling the weed caused.

After a while of mouthing and kissing, Peter wiped the sticky cum off of Stiles' neck and chest, but when he sniffed him and still hummed in satisfaction, Stiles figured the scent still lingered well.

He grinned to himself.

He felt Peter plop down next to him and he looked over. Peter was on his side, just watching Stiles with glowing eyes slowly fading back to normal.

"You're amazing," Peter said, just as Stiles said, "I fucking love you."

They both snorted at each other.

"So," Stiles said. "I think I have to sleep now or else I might die." Peter chuckled and spooned him without hesitation. "But once we wake up, we're doing this again."

"Mmm. I think I can handle that." Peter kissed the back of Stiles' neck, and sleep quickly overcame.

When he woke up, he noticed it was pitch dark outside. He'd slept a long time, apparently. He rolled over to ask Peter what time it was, but he realized he was alone. For a moment, his heart sunk and soul-crushing fear surged, but then he saw the note.

 _I want nothing more than to wake up with you, darling, but your dad came home._  
_I'm leaving for the loft, but text or call me and I'll be wherever you want me to be._  
_ <3 -Love_

He grabbed his phone and sent Peter a text.

> _We should go on a date sometime_

A few moments later, he got back,

< **Hike in the woods?**

> _Nah, im thinking more like skydiving or conjuring a sex spirit_

 _<_ **Hike in the woods it is. I'll pick you up at sunrise.**

< **Cliche, just how you like it**

When Stiles fell back to sleep, he was smiling.

He just opened himself up to quite possibly the messiest, most complicated relationship from heaven. And he had a feeling he was going to love every single moment of it.


End file.
